The Tea Party
by LaBohemienne
Summary: "I don't want you to go, Mad Hatter. It's my birthday tomorrow. Today is a very un-birthday if you leave."


_London, 1858_

Matthew Hared was jolted awake when his carriage jerked into a complete stop. The front horses reared while the four remaining back horses swayed with the movement. There was a nervous jangle of metal chains against the felt reins. The horses' hooves tapped irrationally on the cobblestone path.

It was close to eleven at night. They had finally arrived at the Lydon Manor despite being an hour behind schedule. Matt leant back against the velvet cushions and contemplated what to do next. His sister and her husband would not be expecting him until next week.

A couple of horses neighed defiantly. The vigorous movement caused the carriage to creak in response. Then, silent was ensued with the carriage driver's soft murmur.

"Sorray 'bout tha, mista. The horses were a wee bit spooked. It's the fog. They canna see clearly," the driver added helpfully.

Matt parted the curtains and looked outside. Jim was right. A mist rose and crept through the dark grounds. It travelled relentlessly, purposefully. It weaved through the high hedges and concealed the water fountain in the middle of the courtyard. Matt swung the door open and leapt out.

The water fountain, he knew, was there. He walked towards it even though he could not see it. Usually, he would hear the familiar trickling and gurgling of the water, but on that night, the water stopped running altogether.

"Sir?" Jim sounded fearful.

Matt ignored him. He walked closer until he could see the faint outline of the carved stone. He ran his finger along the smooth surface of the circular seats and stared up to the sleeping angels curled and trapped in the middle column. Even as they slept, they had knowing grins.

Moonlight was pouring into his vision, and the glassy water radiated a ghostly white glow.

"We're home at last, Jim."

There was no response. A wild wind had kicked in, drowning out his voice.

"By the devil," Matt frowned. The mist thickened and he could not see his way back.

"Jim!" he called out.

Matt heard a muffled reply and blindly set off in the perceived direction. As he rounded the fountain, his feet caught onto a tangled vine that clung around the bottom of the stone seat and he found himself sprawled. He grunted as he helped himself up, then stopped abruptly.

The angels' eyes flew wide open. They smiled down on him, teeth sharp as the moon's crescent.

Matt tumbled into the water.

….

When Matt woke, there was a flurried movement of skirts, and his sister's face occupied his field of vision. His unshaven face was covered with fervent kisses.

"Matt, dear, I hope you are alright!"

"My love, the doctor said it was fatigue. Come now, give him room to breathe." His wise brother-in-law pried his sister off his damp bed and kept a reasonable amount of distance.

Matt struggled into a sitting position. His body felt strangely hot and bruised all over. Worse, there was an incessant pounding in his head.

"What happened to me?"

"Jim said he heard a splash- You fell into the fountain. Fortunately, one of the stable boys was awake, so they both helped you out," Theresa explained.

Matt stared at his sister. She avoided his eye and instead stared hard at the foot of his bed. Suddenly, after the explanation, she looked disconcerted.

"I was fatigued," Matt said cautiously, borrowing Edward's words. "I was overworked, I needed a break, hence the early visit. I knew I should have written a letter to expect my arrival, but I simply had not the time." Matt gave an apologetic smile for the benefit of it.

Theresa threw her arms around her brother in welcome. Edward nodded approvingly.

"Just in time for a scrumptious luncheon too. I hope you are feeling better, brother."

….

At lunch, Matthew finally met his eleven-year-old niece. He had heard of her, and envisioned her, from the letters Theresa and Edward wrote, but nothing would have prepared him for the actual introduction.

She had gold hair so straight it seemed frozen in time, smartly brushed from her face and tied away in a black ribbon. This drew attention to her porcelain heart-shaped face, sea-blue dreamy eyes and thin red lips. She pinched the hem of her blue gown and curtsied.

"How do you do, Uncle Matthew?" Ceila started formally.

…

He was to take care of Ceila while Theresa and Edward headed out of town to attend a distant friend's wedding.

"I do not understand. Ceila is old enough to accompany you in the journey. Why leave her behind?" Matthew reasoned as his sister clambered into her carriage. It shined in the promising sun. So did the horses. They had forgotten about the days-old spook and stood magnificently, brushed and well-fed. Jim was bustling about, adjusting the reins and polishing the metal wheels.

Matthew tried in vain to get rid of the responsibility of having to look after Ceila. Theresa thought it was a convenient idea now he had arrived earlier than expected, and that the nanny had to return to her village. He did not like to be around children; he had not planned on spending weeks with a bothersome child. After his fiasco at work, he wanted- no, needed, to integrate back into London society. He missed fencing, drinking and socializing with his friends in the gentleman's club. He missed the political debates and the sensuous women.

"Ceila prefers to stay at home and play in the garden," Theresa continued, oblivious to her brother's discomfort. "Edward had the gardeners construct a little labyrinth with the hedges. She likes to have tea parties with her friends."

Ceila's friends? The Lydon Manor was at least an hour's drive from town, and the Lydon's nearest neighbours were a good one or two miles away.

The situation was self-explanatory when he strolled into the heart of the labyrinth to join his niece in her joyous celebration. He saw no one. Empty dwarf stools surrounded the dainty white table. The cook brought out a china set for Ceila, and she began pouring the non-existent tea into her cups.

"Would you come join us, Uncle?" Ceila beamed.

Matthew crouched with difficulty into the child-size stool. Ceila giggled and confided with her friend.

"Oh, Caterpillar. Yes. My uncle is a big man."

Matt peered over the teapot. Sure enough, on the stool laid a big green leaf, home to a very fat caterpillar. Caterpillar wiggled its red legs, and ploughed through the arduous task of getting to the other side of the leaf. It then stayed put. Matthew glanced around his surroundings. They were comfortably snug under the shade of an apple tree, walled in with the neatly trimmed hedges. From a distance, he knew there was a wicker gate that led into the courtyard. It was the only entrance and exit into the maze. The labyrinth was far east of the manor kitchen, so the only sounds he could hear were the soft clinking of teacups and saucers. Ceila had placed scrap parchments of writing on the tea set; "Eat Me" and "Drink Me" were littered among the silverware.

"Why do you do that?" Matt motioned towards the writings as he pretended to sip his tea.

"My friends do not really understand what I say. It's like a different language. I write so they'll know what to do," Ceila replied chirpily.

"The pastries and tea are all magical!" Ceila continued, leaning forward conspiratorially. "Dinah says they can make you bigger or smaller, if you believe it!"

"Who is Dinah?"

Ceila responded by picking up a sleeping brown cat from under the table.

"She sleeps all the time. And climbs trees at night. But she loves a tea party. She has brought in many friends! This is the lovely Duchess and her pet hare." Ceila gestured to two more empty stools.

Matthew smiled politely.

….

Matthew was having tea with Ceila one day when she shrieked. He nearly overturned the table as he stood abruptly, paternal instinct kicking in. He relaxed visibly at the sight of a white rabbit, huddled at a greenery corner, eyeing them warily as he made his entrance.

"Mr Rabbit! You are late!" Ceila shook her head, then scooped the dazed rabbit into her arms. She plonked him into the stool, only to have him hop out and disappear.

"He's heading somewhere. He is always late and he never tells me where he's going," Ceila sighed. Dinah meowed craftily, displaying Matthew and Ceila her sharp white teeth. She leapt from the top of the hedge, her new sleeping spot, and followed the rabbit.

"I'm sorry Uncle Matthew but the Duchess isn't able to attend the tea party today," Ceila informed him mournfully. As the days passed, Ceila had prepared the tea set rather reluctantly, methodically pouring tea. The celebration had turned into a form of hypnotic ritual. Matt often caught Ceila muttering, "Curious, curiouser" and felt sorry he had not the enthusiastic spirit to participate in her imaginary world.

"Never fear Alice!" Matthew procured his top hat and dramatically placed it on his head. It was a sultry afternoon and he wanted a cool bath, but the hat would remain on his head nonetheless.

"Alice?"

"That's Ceila with its letters rearranged!" Matt winked at her. "A new name for this lovely new place. Wonderland." He announced theatrically.

Ceila's eyes widened in rapture.

"And you sir, shall be..." Ceila's face crumpled into thought. "The Mad Hatter!"

"Mad? But why am I mad?" Matt bellowed gustily. He plucked his little niece effortlessly and swung her. She collapsed into a fit of giggles.

"Uncle, you are! Dinah said so."

….

Tea became a very important business. So important that Alice and the Mad Hatter invited the King and Queen of Hearts. Hatter placed face cards on the stools and Alice graciously served her guests. As a good hostess always does.

….

Lady Charlotte was in love. She met a certain Lord Matthew at her mother's annual Spring ball. He whisked her away from the dizzying marble floor onto the moonlight balcony. He kissed her hand and promised to see her again.

Her parents were delighted at the courtship.

"A fine nobleman indeed. I say, it's awfully responsible for him to undertake his father's business," Charlotte's father brought up at the dining table.

"And to look after his niece while her parents have gone away," her mother gushed.

Charlotte's smile widened. She was in love with a well-to-do, handsome and kind man. Her mother informed her to expect a proposal soon.

That day, Matthew could not visit her. He was entertaining a client at the Lydon Manor. He did, however, promise to send her her favourite white roses.

A package arrived, brought in by her maid. Charlotte undid the ribbon and removed the lid of the intricate cream-coloured box. She gasped.

Her white roses were red roses, splattered clumsily with red paint. In the dim yellow glow of her lamp, it looked like dark blood. A torn parchment was stabbed onto a thorny stalk, and it read:

_He loves you not._

_Alice._

…...

The daily tea parties were taking a toll on Matthew. He did not admit this to Ceila but kept keen silence. Ceila became strangely serene and aggressive, easily fluctuating from one to the other. She made many new friends: a dodo, a dormouse, The Queen's carpenter, a walrus and their circus of dancing oysters. The child had an unstoppable and irrepressible surge of imagination- worse, a devotion to him and the world he had regrettably created.

Once, he gave an excuse. "Lady Charlotte awaits me," he said sorrowfully, meeting his niece's sulk. He successfully left the labyrinth, but was unsuccessful in conversing with her over dinner hours later.

It manifested into begging, whining, screaming then threatening. Matt stalked off, impatient with the child, only to find the wicker gate locked.

Alice bared her teeth and smiled. Matthew was reminded of the way the sleeping stone angels smiled.

"Come now, Mad Hatter. Where is your hospitality?"

…

_Three weeks later_

Matthew was returning to Yorkshire. Theresa and Edward had returned and insisted he prolong his stay with the family, but Matt was adamant. He pretended not to hear Edward's remark to his sister of the drastic change in him. He almost always kept to himself. He avoided the garden and winced everytime Theresa invited him for tea.

He wanted to tell them about Alice. It was the tea, he would say. But they would say he had gone mad. And he was afraid they would be right.

He decided to leave the next night. It seemed like the right time, on the eve of his niece's birthday. He wrote her a card and left her some money in Edward's study. Jim was stunned when Matt informed him about their immediate departure. Jim was to prepare the carriage and horses quietly while the Master waited in the courtyard.

….

A mist had formed just as it had upon his arrival at the Lydon Manor. The air seemed to hold its breath. There was no warm exhale, and the temperature dropped severely. Matt pulled his coat tighter to his shivering frame.

It was past midnight, and there was no light- the wind had ruthlessly snuffed out the oil lamps. The french windows of the manor have been shut against the chill. Outlines of the fruit trees made grotesque shapes and shadows, moving stealthily with the mist. His only comfort was the drowsy trickling of the water fountain.

A blur of movement startled him. He whipped around and saw Dinah stalking around the stone fountain. She had clearly snuck out of the house.

"Dinah. Here, Dinah. Dinah!" he coaxed hoarsely. He beckoned Ceila's brown cat but Dinah ignored him. He followed the cat, cursing under his breath. His surroundings lit up in the pale moonlight, as it always when he neared the fountain. He halted but his heart sped up and banged furiously in his chest.

"Here, Cheshire," Matthew tried again, using Ceila's given fictional names. Cheshire paused in her feline saunter and started to make her way back towards him.

There was an eerie sound of scratching and the sleeping angels ripped open their dust-coated eyes to look at Matthew. They chortled without making a sound. Cheshire smiled along with them; she smiled like a moon crescent, while her furry body disappeared into the mist. All that was left was a disembodied smile.

No sound emanated from the fountain. The water became still.

"I have often seen a cat without a grin, but never a grin without a cat."

Alice giggled.

She came to him, her white bare feet making earthy _pit pats_ on the damp cobblestone path. She hid her hands behind her back, as if shyly guarding a secret. Matthew, Edward and Theresa had seen her to bed in her peach nightgown, but Alice changed out of it, into her favourite blue gown with white ruffles and buckled shoes. Her golden hair was wild and so were her eyes. They were bright with earnest tears.

"I don't want you to go, Mad Hatter. It's my birthday tomorrow. Today is a very un-birthday if you leave."

She showed him her arms. Blood oozed in crooked thick line patterns, from where a ceramic shard from her tea pot nestled in her skin. Matthew watched in sick fascination as Alice dug it deeper and deeper, smiling comfortingly to herself as she did so.

"I am not Mad Hatter! I am your uncle Matthew!" Matt screamed, hoping it would wake the girl from her demonic trance. He yanked her hand away from the ceramic shard but she leapt onto him. She clung to his torso and slid down his body, matting his new coat with her bloodstains.

"There. You will always be a part of me."

Alice wrapped herself around his leg and kissed his feet. Matthew staggered under her pressing weight, torn between helping the child and running away. He forced himself not to move, but it was difficult. Panic sent traumatic shudders down his body and God forbid, he started to cry. Tears, it seemed, clogged his eyes and throat.

His niece began to pull him towards the fountain.

"Come with me, Hatter. Come with me to Wonderland!"

Horns erupted from the heads of the sleeping angels and their toothy grins transformed into vampire fangs. Matthew struggled and called for help, but no one heard him.

"Jim is in the stable and he can't get out!" Alice shrieked delightedly. "Oh Hatter, I am such a clever soul, aren't I? Curiouser, curiouser."

Alice climbed onto the stone seat and fell into the water.

Matthew watched in horror as his niece drowned herself.


End file.
